


Retreat

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Juris Imprudence [17]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 09:41:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6652792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: <i>Stargate Multiverse, Any, a team-building trip goes awry</i>. The staff of Woolsey O'Neill & Weir go to Comic Con for their annual staff retreat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Retreat

“Whoever planned this year’s staff retreat needs to never be allowed to do it again,” Jack grumbled. He plucked at the sleeve of his leather jacket, adjusted his fedora.  
  
“I think it was Vala,” Daniel said.  
  
Vala was wearing some kind of form-fitting black uniform and carrying a fake alien gun. Beside her, Cam was wearing some kind of space pirate outfit, complete with black leather pants, some brown vest with too many buckles, and a pair of guns.  
  
“Comic Con, though?” Jack said. “What are we, teenagers?”  
  
Daniel smiled and smoothed down the lapel of his own tweed jacket. “I think you make a great Indiana Jones.”  
  
“You look nothing like Marcus,” Jack pointed out. “Who are Vala and Cam even supposed to be?”  
  
“You never watched _Farscape?_ ” Daniel asked. “Wait, what am I saying? You’ve never seen _Star Wars_ , no matter how hard Teal’c tries to get you to see it.”  
  
“I’m more of a _Simpsons_ kind of guy.” Jack fixed Daniel with an annoyed look, but Daniel just smiled sunnily.  
  
Teyla wandered past. She was a beautifully bronzed Princess Leia, complete with slave bikini and blaster pistol, and Ronon trailed behind her, dressed as Chewie. Parrish had somehow been corralled into playing Luke, and he kept tugging at the collar of his white outfit self-consciously. Lorne...looked surprisingly good as Han, though. He had translated his soldier confidence into Han’s rebel swagger, and when he grinned, he had a dimple.  
  
“I still don’t see why you aren’t Spock,” John protested. “You’re the scientist.”  
  
“You cannot fool me - I read your masters thesis.” Rodney was slathering something into John’s unruly hair. “You’re far more brilliant than you let on. Besides, I have blue eyes, and it makes more sense for you to be Spock. You kind of already have the ears.”  
  
John scowled at his boyfriend. Rodney smirked and leaned in, pressed a kiss to a spot behind John’s ear that made John’s eyes slip closed. Jack had to look away, because he worked with them.  
  
A flashbulb went off, and a bunch of teenage girls dressed like something out of a crazy Japanese cartoon cheered.  
  
“Look, they hired professional cosplayers for the new Star Trek movies! And they pulled out all the stops on the slash,” one of the girls said, snapping more pictures of Rodney and John, who looked startled. After a moment, though, they got into character, John assuming a dispassionate expression, Rodney smirking and flashing his blue eyes at them.  
  
Sam, of all people, was wearing a brunette wig and dressed as Major Stacey Monroe from _Wormhole X-treme!_ Somehow, she’d corralled Teal’c into getting himself painted silver to play Grell, the robot. She was posing for pictures for strangers dressed in all kinds of costumes, and she was impressing them with fancy scientific talk.  
  
Woolsey was dressed as some random _Star Trek_ character, and more than one Trekkie with bad fake ears had squealed at him and asked for his autograph. He tried to fend a few of them off, but they were insistent, so he shrugged and just signed random things they offered him.

Jack was pretty sure his world was going to implode when Elizabeth arrived, dressed as Riley from _Alien_. She looked far too comfortable handling the massive gun she was carrying, and when one adventurous young man dared to whistle at her, the look she cast him would have sent him up in a ball of flame.

Jack was totally unprepared for a couple of young women to smile up at him and say, “You make a great Indiana Jones. I really like the angle you two are taking it. I never really thought of Indy/Marcus before, but you really make it work.”

Jack blinked, confused, but Daniel smiled graciously and said, “Thanks,” and then he leaned in and kissed Jack on the cheek, which just set the girls to giggling.

“Pretty sure we’re going to get kicked out of this joint,” Jack said. “It’s family-friendly. You’re ruining some kid’s childhood.”

He would have said more, but then some MTV-looking girl with bright red hair thrust a microphone in his face. She was accompanied by a harried-looking young man with a fancy news camera.

“So, Indiana Jones and Marcus, right? What brings you to Comic Con? And how do you feel, setting a pretty bold example of mainstreaming slash into the wider fandom community?”

“Objection, compound question,” Jack said automatically, and instead of being put off, the girl laughed.

Daniel pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled, launched into some long anthropological discussion with her about the wider fandom, and Jack was really, really going to kill Vala for picking this as the annual retreat.

It wasn’t until months later, when photos of all the staff in their various costumes (Amelia made a striking Catwoman, complete with vinyl suit and whip) appeared on the staff only corner of the firm’s website, that Jack realized who was really responsible, because no one else was that good with a camera.


End file.
